


Fitz, and Deke, and Hunter. Oh my!

by stjarna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Because I feel like canon won't give this to us and I really need it, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fun, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 21:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14246334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Hunter meets Deke. Nuff said!





	Fitz, and Deke, and Hunter. Oh my!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.
> 
> I just really needed something like this, because just imagine the absolute awesomeness that would be Deke, Fitz, and Hunter :)

Jemma looked from her recipe book to Fitz, who was peeking into the hallway for the third time within the past five minutes. She pressed her lips together to suppress a grin, but couldn’t help the little snort that escaped her.

Fitz’s head shot around, and he stared at her wide-eyed and with a hint of embarrassed guilt.

Jemma’s lips pulled into a wide smile, unable to keep her amusement in check any longer.

Fitz tucked one hand into his pocket, the other wandering to the back of his neck as he walked back into the kitchen, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I hope he’s not late,” Fitz said, thoughtfully.

Jemma grabbed an egg, cracking it open on the rim of the bowl in front of her. “Hunter? He’s always late,” she said, her lips twitching with mischief.

Fitz stared at her, gesturing to the hallway. “Not Hunter. Deke!”

“Well, Deke’s—” Jemma shrugged, ticking her head to the side. “—also always late.”

Fitz ran his fingers through his hair, groaning loudly.

“Maybe they’ll both be equally late, and thus equally on time,” Jemma remarked.

Fitz looked at her with big, concerned puppy eyes.

Jemma slumped her shoulders. “Would you please relax, Fitz? You’re acting like a teenager introducing his parents to his newest love interest.”

Fitz raised his shoulders, one hand once again gesturing to the side in a horizontal half-circle. “Well, I’m introducing our grandson to one of my best friends. It’s pretty close.”

Jemma scoffed in amusement, reaching for the next ingredient and measuring the correct amount into her bowl.

“And Deke—,” Fitz continued, bringing his hand back to scratch the skin below his ear, before tucking it back into his pocket. “I mean he grows on people eventually, but he doesn’t always leave the best first impression.”

Jemma raised her eyebrows, looking at her husband with a teasing twinkle in her eye. “Oh, but Hunter does?”

“It’s just—,” Fitz shrugged. “I love him, but he can be really weird sometimes.”

“Hunter? Yes, I agree,” Jemma said deadpan, grabbing the hand mixer, and trying in vain to suppress another smirk.

Fitz glanced at her, sighing deeply. “You’re going to keep doing that, aren’t you?”

Jemma chuckled, scrunching her nose. She set the hand mixer back down on the counter and wiped off her hands on her apron, before walking around the kitchen island to where Fitz was standing.

She slid her palms up his chest, curling her fingers around the back of his neck, as his hands reflexively wrapped around her waist. She smiled at him, pulling him closer to press a gentle kiss to his lips, before gazing at him, her fingers absentmindedly playing with his shirt collar. “The three of you will have a marvelous time watching football and yelling at the telly together—” She grinned one sidedly. “—while I will be sulking in a corner because Bobbi couldn’t make it.”

Fitz’s expression softened, his arms tightening slightly around Jemma’s waist, drawing her closer to him. “She’ll make up for it another time,” he said softly.

Jemma’s lips pulled ear to ear. “I know.”

Fitz exhaled sharply, his eyes glazing over. Jemma could practically see another wave of anxiety rushing through his mind.

She cupped his face, guiding his eyes back to look at her. “Tell you what, I’ll even give you permission to start a betting pool about how many times I’ll have to run to the bathroom while the football match is on.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Fitz’s lips. He drew in a slow breath, his gaze wandering to Jemma’s stomach. He crouched down, cradling her protruding belly in his palms and pressing his lips against the fabric of her jumper. “Go easy on your mum, little monkey,” he whispered.

The vibration of his voice tickled Jemma’s abdomen, causing her to laugh quietly. She ran her fingers through Fitz’s curls, and Fitz looked up at her at the touch. He got back up, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking adoringly at his wife. “I love you,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

Jemma smiled widely, pulling him in for another kiss.

“I love you, too,” she replied, still beaming, before releasing him and taking a step back. “Now, let me get back to my brownies so you have something to snack on later.”

Fitz pressed his lips into a thin line, bobbing his head in agreement. He tucked his hands into his pockets, his gaze wandering towards the hallway.

“And stop pacing!” Jemma teased, as she picked the hand mixer back up. “They’ll be here when they’ll be here.”

Fitz’s eyes flickered in her direction, a shy, embarrassed smile flashing across his face. His eyes widened when the doorbell suddenly rang.

“See?” Jemma remarked, waving one hand in the direction of the hallway. “Told you so.”

Fitz paused, exhaling sharply before heading for the front door.

* * *

Fitz swung the door open, Hunter’s wide grin and fanned-out arms welcoming him on the other side.

“The prodigal Brit has returned!” Hunter announced, theatrically, before taking a step inside, wrapping his arms around Fitz and pulling him in for a tight hug.

He slapped Fitz’s shoulder once they broke their hug, looking around the hallway. “So where's that grandson of yours? Can't wait to meet him and teach him the way of our people.” He raised a six pack of beer in the air, dangling it in front of Fitz’s nose. “I brought Bendeery!"  
  
Fitz sighed, tucking his hands in his pockets, his gaze wandering to the ground in mild embarrassment. "He doesn't like beer," Fitz admitted quietly.  
  
Hunter stared at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "He doesn't like—? He doesn't—? _WHAT?_ "  
  
Before Fitz got a chance to reply, Deke stepped through the open door and past Hunter, smiling widely. He slapped Fitz on the shoulder. "Hey, gramps."  
  
Fitz glanced in panic at Hunter, who grinned back at him, mischievously. Fitz grimaced, realizing that Hunter would never let him live that nickname down.

"Hey!”

Both Hunter and Fitz looked in Deke’s direction at his enthusiastic greeting. Deke’s eyes were focussed on Hunter as he stretched out his hand. "You must be this Hunter guy. Those Liverpool guys sure suck, don't they?"  
  
Hunter silently accepted Deke’s handshake, while his angry glare wandered to Fitz, who tried in vain to suppress a triumphant snort.   
  
"Oh," Deke continued, raising a six pack in his hand and as usual oblivious to everything. "I brought us some Zima, by the way. Where’s Grandma? In the kitchen? She said she’d make brownies. I better say hi."  
  
He took off without waiting for a reply, while Hunter continued to stare in silent shock and disbelief at Fitz, who shrugged apologetically.

“Zima?” Hunter suddenly growled through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice low.

Fitz grimaced, once again raising his shoulders in an apologetic gesture. He gestured towards the kitchen. “He grew up in a dystopian future. Never had beer in his life, and when he finally got a chance to taste it, it wasn’t at all what he’d imagined for 20+ years.”

“ _ZIMA??_ ” Hunter repeated, a lot louder this time.

“Look, let him have his Zima.” Fitz gently smacked the back of his hand against Hunter’s chest. “It means more Bendeery for us!”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “You think you’ll get Bendeery after the stunt you just pulled?”

“What stunt?”

Hunter poked Fitz in the chest. “Trash-talking Liverpool, making your grandson believe I’d be a ManU!” Hunter’s face distorted in disgust.

“I don’t need to trash-talk Liverpool.” Fitz smirked. “Their actions or lack thereof speak for themselves.”

“Oh, it’s on, mate.” Hunter puffed out his chest. “By the end of tonight, Deke will—”

“Oh, hey, guys,” Deke interrupted them, poking his head through the kitchen door. “By the way, I know you wanted to show me more football and that’s cool and all, but Mack told me about this thing called basketball, and it sounds totally awesome, so I thought maybe we could—”

“No!” Fitz and Hunter exclaimed in unison, both pointing at Deke and staring at him with wide-open panicked eyes.

Deke fell silent, looking back at them in obvious confusion.

“Look, mate,” Hunter began, slapping Fitz on the shoulder and stepping past him to walk towards Deke. He stretched out one hand, waving his fingers back towards himself. “Give me one of those Zimas and then I will explain to you why no sport can ever live up to the wonder that is football, in particular English football, and in particular the grand—nay, majestic—football played by the greatest football club in the world: Liverpool!”

Deke furrowed his brow. “But, I thought Liverpool—”

Hunter looked over his shoulder at Fitz, grinning mischievously as he curled his hand around Deke’s shoulder, guiding him back into the kitchen and living room area. “Yes, see, your misguided ManU gramps may have misled you there.”

Fitz paused for a second, before jumping into gear and rushing after his best mate and his grandson. “Don’t listen to this bloody delusional wanker, Deke.”

* * *

Jemma placed the brownie pan into the oven and set the timer. She turned around, watching Hunter and Fitz argue loudly about their football club preferences, while Deke’s eyes wandered aimlessly and in confusion between the two. She couldn’t help but smile, her hand reaching for her pregnant stomach.

“Oh, your poor son, monkey,” she whispered to her growing daughter.

She glanced back up, noticing a wide grin appearing on Deke’s face.

“On second thought,” she said, continuing to caress her tummy. “I think maybe he’s quite enjoying himself.”


End file.
